


Learning Faith

by orphan_account



Series: KuroTsukki week [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Idol (trainee) AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-03
Updated: 2015-07-03
Packaged: 2018-04-07 12:06:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4262682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“The point is that—I know you don’t want to be an idol. But you’re still a person, so treat yourself like one.”</p><p>Or: Tsukishima, a regular high school student, finds himself spending all his free time with a bunch of soon-to-be-idols.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Learning Faith

**Author's Note:**

> for kurotsukki week day 3: music.
> 
> (although its more like dancing tbh.)
> 
> very small emetophobia warning

Tsukishima had always liked idols.

It was a bit embarrassing when he was a kid. He stuffed posters and pictures found on the street into his bag and then into a box underneath his bed, triple-checking the hallway to make sure his brother and parents were in their rooms. He took anything—he couldn’t be picky, not when it was free—so his assortment included girls dressed in pretty pink dresses to boys wearing leather jackets and poorly done-up ties looped around their necks.

 _Yeah,_ he thought as he skimmed over his box. He shoved in a new picture he found in front of a convenience store, supposedly after falling off one of the displays. _This is definitely embarrassing._

It really shouldn’t be, though. His brother attended both music and dance classes and actively pursued a career in it, and his parents were entirely supportive of him, even urging Tsukishima to enroll in them too. But the whole thing was so cringe-worthy, that he actually _enjoyed_ it without being ashamed. Just thinking about himself in that position made him feel sick.

He put the box back under his bed and moved towards his laptop. An official Jurassic Park wallpaper was set as his background. Still embarrassing, but everyone already knew he liked them, so it wasn’t as bad. He reached out for his phone behind him and hooked it up to the USB, waiting for it to load.

And then, slowly, he dragged the last ten albums he downloaded onto his phone.

 _Gross,_ he thought. He plugged in his headphones and began to listen to the loud, cheery music that flooded into his ears, pulling up his homework to drown out his own thoughts. _Really, really gross._

* * *

  
The only person who knew of Tsukishima’s interest was his friend Yamaguchi.

Tsukishima wasn’t really sure what they were. Friends, definitely, but he had no idea how to define their relationship specifically. Best friends? Maybe. They rarely went over to each other’s houses and their other activities were limited to volleyball and occasionally going shopping. But their conversations were mostly one-sided, and Yamaguchi was often trailing behind him like a puppy when he was on the way to class, even if Tsukishima’s was on the other side of the school.

This was one of those times.

“Tsukki, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi called, running out of seemingly nowhere to catch up to him. Tsukishima passed him a weary glance, trying not to act like he wasn’t listening to a pop song about falling in love sung by a group of eighteen year old girls. “I bought Perfume’s new al—”

Tsukishima made an annoyed noise and Yamaguchi cut himself off, blushing. “Why are you speaking so loudly? We’re at school.”

“Sorry, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi replied sheepishly. “But you said you wanted it, right? So I got it for you.”

Tsukishima paused his music to look at Yamaguchi. He was a good few inches shorter than Tsukishima and normally shy and quiet, but annoying and loud around Tsukishima. He wasn’t sure if that was a curse or blessing.

“It’s supposed to be good,” Tsukishima mumbled. He looked back ahead, unpausing his music.

“I have it in my bag.” Yamaguchi gave something like a wink at him, but it looked terribly awkward. Tsukishima snorted. “I’ll give it to you later, Tsukki! I need to run to class.”

“You’re always late,” Tsukishima sighed, not even having a chance to wave before Yamaguchi ran away into the crowd.

* * *

  
After school, Yamaguchi was waiting by their usual spot out in the parking lot of the school. He looked pathetically lost as he stood there alone, going on his toes to stare at every person who walked out of the school’s doors to see if they were Tsukishima.

Tsukishima fixed his glasses and walked up to him. Yamaguchi was already bouncing on his heels, excited; and as promised, Perfume’s new album was resting in his hands.

It had a pretty design, three beautiful girls laminated by a glossy cover and lots of sparkles. Yamaguchi shoved it towards him and for a moment he was confused, until he remembered that it was supposed to be a gift.

“Thanks,” Tsukishima shoved the album into his bag before anyone could see. He prayed silently that he didn’t scratch the edges. “Did you buy it?”

Yamaguchi gasped, “you don’t think I stole it, did you, Tsukki?” After Tsukishima sent him an unimpressed glance, he giggled. “Your birthday is next week, so this is kind of for that—but this isn’t your only gift, so don’t worry!”

Tsukishima could feel his cheeks heating up. “I wasn’t worrying.”

They began to walk out of the school perimeter, Yamaguchi talking excitedly about school, then how he lined up for an hour to get the album for Tsukishima.

Tsukishima rarely ever got excited, but listening to Yamaguchi speak so happily gave him a small boost of energy to his steps—and the new addition to his collection didn’t hurt either.

* * *

  
Tsukishima hated his birthday.  It wasn’t the fact that it was essentially just his immediate family and Yamaguchi there. It was the stupid music and singing and _talking_ he had to do with his uncle and aunt and all these cousins that Tsukishima really didn’t care about.

The first opportunity he found, he slipped into his room and closes the door behind him. Yamaguchi came bursting through his door a few moments later, grinning from ear to ear.

“Tsukki!” He shouted, wrapping one arm around Tsukishima’s shoulder. Tsukishima grunted. “I have another gift for you.”

Tsukishima moved over on his bed, making room for Yamaguchi that _wasn’t_ right beside him. “Is it loud?”

Yamaguchi smiled sympathetically. “No. It’s something way, way better!” He reached over and grabbed Tsukishima’s hands. Yamaguchi’s were smaller and softer and definitely warmer. Tsukishima felt like a cold spider next to him, with thin and pretty fingers.

He took a deep breath and then spoke, excitement dripping from every syllable. “We’re going to be idols!”

Tsukishima blinked.

“What?”

If it was one of those ridiculous karaoke things—he was almost sad that Yamaguchi actually paid for it. He was pretty sure they had a karaoke machine stashed deep down in the darkest corner of their basement. It was there for a good reason.

“Well, when I was over here a few months ago, while you were showering, your mom told me about how she wanted you to join Akiteru-kun’s agency. And then she spoke to my mom, and they’re going to enroll us together.”

He took a deep breath, his whole body shaking. He felt a little dizzy, but his anxiety was slowly ebbing away with every word Yamaguchi spoke. _It’s not an audition, it’s just lessons._

It was still terrible. But ‘we’re going to be idols’ wasn’t exactly the same thing as ‘our parents are going to make us do a few hours of dancing and singing a week.’

“How is this a gift for me, exactly?”

Yamaguchi’s face fell before he sat up straighter in stubborn defiance to Tsukishima’s lack of excitement. “It’s at a talent agency. Maybe we’ll get to meet idols or something!”

Tsukishima snorted. “I don’t want to meet any idols,” he grumbled, breaking away from Yamaguchi.

“Tsukki!” Yamaguchi whined, kicking his leg lightly. “I know you do. I know you love it. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, okay? I do too!”

 _That makes me feel even worse, thanks,_ Tsukishima thought.

“Whatever,” Tsukishima said. He knew he sounded ungrateful, like he was sulking. Probably because he was. But he never asked for this—he’d never even shown any signs to his parents or his brother that he even remotely enjoyed this stuff. And now everyone was going to know.

The kid who liked idols and shitty music and spent his free time dancing and singing instead of doing something normal like sports.

Yamaguchi started talking cheerily again, but Tsukishima couldn’t think of it anything but an opportunity to embarrass himself.

* * *

  
Their instructor was a rugged guy named Ukai Keishin. Tsukishima had heard of him and his agency—famous for the strict workload and practice regime, while also having the highest success of producing idols.  
  
Admittedly, when Yamaguchi first told him they’d be joining a talent agency, Tsukishima thought they’d be taking the beginner level ‘introductory’ courses for casual people looking to learn how to dance to popular idol songs to impress their friends.  
  
He gulped. This was the real deal.  
  
“… I’ll have him show you guys around. Practice doesn’t start for half an hour, so take a look around and grab some water or whatever else you need. I’ll explain more once it starts.”  
  
Ukai dragged a cigarette across his lips and smiled faintly. It looked entirely forced and didn’t help the sick feeling that Tsukishima had in his stomach. He already felt out of place, wearing these ugly clothes that Yamaguchi had told him to wear. He was taller than almost everyone else he’d passed in the hallway, and if he had to guess, younger.  
  
“Well? What are you waiting for? Go inside already.” Ukai shoved them both inside with a nudge to the back.

  
And then Tsukishima was face-to-face with the single most annoying person he’d ever met.

There were a lot of things that annoyed him. Loud people, crass people, spontaneous people, and generally just _annoying_ people.

This person was all of them at once.

“Don’t worry!” Their guide, who Tsukishima didn’t learn the name of because he tuned their instructor out, patted both him and Yamaguchi’s backs. “You guys will fit right in.”

Yamaguchi laughed giddily, looking at Tsukishima to share the same reaction. Instead, he just frowned.

“What’s with that sad face?” Their guide raised an eyebrow. “We haven’t even started doing any real work. Don’t act so depressed.”

Tsukishima rolled his eyes, brushing past both him and Yamaguchi to enter the studio. There were a few people doing stretches already and Tsukishima joined them. It was easy enough. He copied the guy in front of him—he was shorter and a lot more muscular, but Tsukishima was flexible.

Yamaguchi appeared by his side a few moments later. “Why did you leave?” He was frowning, eyebrows furrowed together to make one of the most pathetically worried expressions Tsukishima had ever seen.

“He was annoying.” Tsukishima sat down on the ground, stretching over to touch his toes. _Fuck,_ that hurt. He barely graced his fingers along his foot before he had to sit back before he strained his back. So much for being flexible.

He looked over to the other side of the room and saw their guide do the same thing, except he reached his toes and beyond. Easily.

Tsukishima rolled his eyes. _Showoff,_ he thought, but he knew that was probably something everyone but him and Yamaguchi could do.

“He told me about this class. Our instructor is really famous, you know—”

“I know,” he interjected, trying to do the splits and failing. He hastily corrected his position back to trying to touch his toes.

“—I should have expected Tsukki to know,” Yamaguchi gushed. “Most of the people in this class are trainees. Do they think we already know how to dance and sing and stuff? Because I tried to practice in my mirror, but I think I looked silly…”

Tsukishima shrugged. He had no idea what the name of the class even was, let alone what their parents actually signed them up for. “It’s the first class of the semester. They’re not going to start us off with something difficult.”

* * *

  
Tsukishima was very, very wrong.

“Alright!” Ukai walked into the room. He slipped his jacket off at the door and tied it around his waist. “We have two new members of the class for this block. Yamaguchi Tadashi and…” He squinted at the paper he was holding.

“Tsukishima Kei!” Yamaguchi answered for him, bouncing on his heels.

“… Tsukishima Kei.” Ukai nodded in their direction, one hand moving to his hip. “Anyways, we’re going to start off where we left off in the last block. Kuroo, you can show Tsukishima. Oikawa, you can show Yamaguchi. Everyone else, practice in the mirror. You have twenty minutes.”

 _Only twenty minutes?_   Tsukishima groaned as he saw the guide from earlier walk towards him with a big shit-eating grin on his face. He probably _knew_ how annoying he was.

“Well, well, well,” Kuroo sang, leaning against the mirror in front of him. Tsukishima looked away, crossing his arms. “I didn’t get your name before. It’s nice.”

Tsukishima stayed silent.

Kuroo sighed loudly. “It’s not nice to suddenly run away from your elders, you know. I didn’t even get to show you where the water cooler was.”

“It’s down the hall. I saw it while I was entering,” Tsukishima shot back, not even bothering to disguise the edge in his voice.

Kuroo whistled. “Observant, huh? Good, because you’re going to need it.”

Tsukishima glared. He wanted to punch that smug smile off his face—or at least grab a pair of scissors and fix that stupid haircut for him. Tsukishima liked idols, but that didn’t mean he had to appreciate their personalities.

And besides, Kuroo wasn’t an idol. He probably wasn’t even a trainee.

“Hey, Tsukishima. Who’s your favourite idol group?”

Tsukishima paused, wondering if he should even reply at all. “Perfume,” he answered finally.

Kuroo burst into laughter, doubling over and mock-wiping tears from his eyes. Tsukishima just stared, dumbfounded and speechless. “W-What?”

“Nothing,” Kuroo laughed, practically wheezing. “It’s just—most people who join these classes actually like performing, or at least idols.”

Something inside Tsukishima flared up, telling him to take the bait. It was a bad idea and he knew it but there was no way he was going to allow Kuroo to go and tell everyone else in the class that Tsukishima didn’t even know what he was doing here. “What makes you think I don’t like them?”

Kuroo quirked a brow. Who even shaped their eyebrows like that? It was horrible. It made him look angry, even when he was amused. “You like idols and your favourite group is _Perfume_?”

“… Yes?”

Kuroo laughed again. “Okay, okay. Fine. If you really do like them, then this should be easy for you. Lucky for you, you have a great instructor.” He pounded his chest. “I graduated this class a _long_ time ago. I’m just here to help newbies like you.”

“That sounds like a waste of time.”

“It won’t be, as long as you learn something.” Kuroo took a step back. He was tall, really tall. Not as tall as Tsukishima, but he didn’t need to be told that he was just freakishly tall. Kuroo had these long, muscled legs that made Tsukishima feel like a twig standing next to him. It was infuriating. “Ready?”

Tsukishima tapped his fingers against his side impatiently. “Go ahead.”

Kuroo put one foot in front of the other, then spun around, landing on the opposite feet. He pointed right at Tsukishima, then motioned for him to come forward.

Tsukishima stepped closer and Kuroo tilted his head before laughing.

“You’re not supposed to step forward. It’s part of the move.”

Blushing, Tsukishima stepped back again. “You could have explained it to me before you did it.”

“Yeah, but that’s not as fun.” Kuroo grinned. “You try now. It’s easy, right?”

Tsukishima nodded.

He copied Kuroo’s foot placement from before and then turned around, which much less grace than Kuroo. He almost tripped over himself, landing back in his original position, stretching out his arm and cocking his finger a second too late for Kuroo to come closer.

He was pretty sure every person in the building could hear Kuroo’s laughter.

“Oh—Holy shit.” Kuroo gasped for air, holding his stomach. Tsukishima’s face was burning and his stomach was doing backflips. He was going to be sick. He dropped his arm and immediately went back to a stiff standing position as everyone turned to look at them. “You’ve never even danced before, have you? It wasn’t—okay, it wasn’t that bad, I promise. I can help you.” His laughing spoke otherwise and Tsukishima’s face was consumed by scorching heat.

“I know a few dances.” Tsukishima looked anywhere but Kuroo. Not that it helped, since there were mirrors everywhere. He decided to fixate his gaze squarely on the floor. “… Easy ones,” he admitted.

“Okay, yeah. Don’t worry, I believe you. You’re a fan. But have you ever _actually_ danced?”

Tsukishima managed to count thirteen tiles before Kuroo spoke again.

“Why are you even here?”

Tsukishima sighed, his voice quiet, drowned out by the sound of everyone resuming their practice after watching Kuroo almost die from laughter. “My mom signed me up.”

“What?” Kuroo took a step closer. “I can’t hear you.”

“I said—my mom signed me up.” He practically spat onto Kuroo’s shoe.

He felt Kuroo touch his shoulder, patting him lightly. His voice was dripping with sympathy and Tsukishima wanted to dig a hole and bury himself in the ground right then and there. “Listen, this class isn’t for messing around. It’s kind of a harsh world here. If you don’t do well, you’re going to get made fun of.”

Tsukishima was beginning to learn that. He continued to stare intently at the floor, unmoving.

Kuroo sighed and then slipped behind him. “Here, you need to mirror your position from the way I did it.” He nudged his foot against Tsukishima’s and he allowed Kuroo to move him into the starting position for the dance move. “Okay, now spin.”

He spun, closing his eyes briefly when turning so he didn’t have to see Kuroo. He stopped in the same position as before.

Kuroo grabbed his arm and lifted it—for a total of exactly four seconds before he stopped. “And then just point.”

Tsukishima pointed at the wall. He felt ridiculous.

“Great!” Kuroo slapped his back. “Okay, now do all of that in less than three seconds.”

Tsukishima glared at him. He wanted to hiss out, _Are you fucking kidding me, I just told you I don’t know how to dance and you’re going to try and graduate me from slow-motion twirling to an actual dance move?_

And he was fully prepared to do so, until Yamaguchi tackled him from behind.

“—Oof! What the hell—!” Tsukishima stumbled forward, pushing Yamaguchi off him. Kuroo snickered and a pretty boy who he assumed was Yamaguchi’s substitute instructor stood beside him.

“Tsukki! This is so fun, right? Oikawa-san showed me how to do that cool move.” He showed Tsukishima the same one that Kuroo showed him.

Except Yamaguchi could actually do it.

Oikawa stood proudly, leaning against Kuroo. “They grow up so fast,” he sniffled, to which Kuroo nodded in agreement.

“I wouldn’t call it fun,” Tsukishima mumbled. Yamaguchi whined something about him being a party pooper and went back to talking about Oikawa. The older boy ruffled Yamaguchi’s hair and practically shined when Yamaguchi repeated the move for him.

This was why Tsukishima never pursued things. This was why he shoved his interests under his bed and locked them up so no one would talk to him about them.

He pulled away from their little group to go get some water, fingers etching against his thighs nervously. At least Yamaguchi was having fun—but that wasn’t much of a consolation.

He drank at least four cups of water before he heard someone approach. Crushing the paper cup in his hand, he was about to brush past them when they caught his shoulder.

“Hey.” Kuroo hooked his foot in front of Tsukishima’s, stopping him from passing. “Are you okay?”

Tsukishima glared. “Are you getting water or did you follow me here?”

Kuroo grinned in response.

“… Let go of me,” Tsukishima grumbled, kicking Kuroo’s foot away. He only took one step before Kuroo stopped him again.

Tsukishima was fully prepared to punch him in the jaw if he did it one more time.

“Listen.” Kuroo sighed, pulling Tsukishima’s shoulder so he was facing him. “I was serious. If you don’t want to do this, you need to quit now.”

Tsukishima had the audacity to look offended, at least. “What?”

“Your friend learned it in so little time because he actually wants to be here. If you don’t put any effort in, you’re going to suck. That’s just how it is. You don’t want to be an idol, sure. But this is a class for making them, so expect to work like one.”

Tsukishima gulped, shoving Kuroo away. _I don’t suck,_ he thought. But he knew that was wrong. It felt wrong to his own ears too.

“So you need to make up your mind. This isn’t just playing around.”

“You already told me this,” Tsukishima hissed.  

“Yeah, but you clearly didn’t take it seriously before, since now you’re having a panic attack by the water filter.”

Tsukishima swallowed harshly, feeling as if someone just punched him. “I’m not—you know what, fuck you.”

This time, Kuroo didn’t try and stop him as he pushed him aside and walked away.

* * *

  
“That was great!” Yamaguchi shouted as they walked back home after.

“That was terrible.”

Yamaguchi grabbed his hand, fitting them together. Tsukishima tried to pull away, but Yamaguchi was apparently having none of that, since that only made him tighten his hold on Tsukishima’s palm.

“It was great,” he repeated, smile not faltering because of Tsukishima’s lack of reaction. “You just need to practice more, Oikawa-san said. He said you’d be really good at doing it for real. Long legs and stuff.”

“No offense, but neither Oikawa-san or Kuroo-san seemed very smart.”

Yamaguchi lightly hit his arm, almost making him trip over a rock. _Fuck,_ he was disoriented today. “Tsukki! They’re like, really good, okay? Oikawa-san was telling me that they’re going to debut _really_ soon. As a real group. On TV.”

Tsukishima snorted. “I know enough about idols to know that things aren’t that easy. A bunch of kids getting recruited from an agency and seamlessly ending up popular on TV? Yeah, right.”

Yamaguchi frowned, seemingly offended on their behalf. “You’re so mean, Tsukki. They’re really good,” he mumbled, but still made no move to release his grip. “It could be fun once we get the hang of it. At least come for the next few classes, okay?”

 _That’s almost five hours per week,_ he thought, groaning out loud.

“Please!” Yamaguchi pushed up against him.

Tsukishima said yes just so Yamaguchi would finally let go of his hand.

* * *

 

  
Tsukishima never liked the mirror in his room. It was a bit too short for him and he had to take five steps from the wall just to be able to see the top of his head in it. A hand-me-down from his older brother, it was pink with glitter on the edges and a cute rabbit scribbled onto the lower right corner of the glass.

His muscles still ached from practice, but moved his feet into position anyways. He refused to becoming the glass goat, the one who people pointed at when saying, ‘oh, at least you’re not as bad as him.’

He recalled Kuroo’s words. _If you don’t do well, you’re going to be made fun of._

Starting the music in his head, he tried to dance.

_One foot in front of the other. Spin. Point._

He fucked up almost immediately—spinning in the wrong direction then pointing too early. Over and over, he repeated the same step, imagining the loud music in his head and trying to channel whatever it was that made Kuroo so good.

Although, he already knew what it was. It was passion. Something that Tsukishima didn’t have.

But he made up for it in competitiveness at least, and he practiced all night until he had blisters on his feet and his legs practically turned to jelly underneath him.

* * *

 

The next class, admittedly, wasn’t so bad.

He didn’t have any annoying seniors teaching him—just Ukai teaching the whole class, and it was a lot easier to sing in a crowd than dance alone. Like dancing, he’d never sung before, but he sounded okay to his own ears, at least.

Yamaguchi, on the other hand, was singled out for sounding like a dying animal.

Ukai pressed his fingers to his temples. “Ah. Just say ‘Ah.’”

“Ah,” Yamaguchi repeated, voice cracking.

The rest of the class was spent by everyone having to repeat the same syllable over and over, Yamaguchi’s face beet-red the whole time.

After, Ukai called Yamaguchi to stay behind and Tsukishima went to the other room to practice his dancing.

_One foot in front of the other. Spin. Point._

He was too tall, too lanky, and not nearly graceful enough for this. He tripped over his feet over and over, almost falling face-first onto the ground. It felt like hours before he even got the beat right in his head.

Where the hell was Yamaguchi?

He huffed, but didn’t go to find him. He wanted to show them that he could do this. Yamaguchi, Kuroo, his parents, his classmates, whatever. He wasn’t going to drop out after the second class because he couldn’t fucking _twirl._

One foot in front of the other. His toes curled inside his shoes and he counted—One, then spun around. Two, raised his arm. And then three, pointed at his disgruntled reflection.

Panting, his eyes widened.

He did it.

Three seconds, exactly.

Grinning to himself, he held one arm around his stomach and put one hand on his knee to steady himself as he allowed himself to pant.

He did it.

His happy moment was ruined by a frustratingly loud clap—it sounded like thunder to his ears, making him flinch and then glare immediately, smile melting away.

“Nice work.” Kuroo stopped beside him, looking at Tsukishima’s reflection. “I told you it wasn’t hard, right?”

Tsukishima stood up, wiping non-existent flecks of dust off his shirt. “Why are you here?”

“I’m here to practice. An actual dance, that is.” He dropped his bag on the floor. “Doing single moves is fun, but it’s nothing if you can’t do the whole thing. Where’s your friend?”

Tsukishima shrugged. _Okay, Tadashi. You let me have time to practice, now come back already._

“I heard he got held back after singing. Poor guy.” Kuroo laughed—he threw his head back, and it was loud and boisterous but it wasn’t mocking. “I have to admit, I’m not the best singer either. Dancing is more my thing. Oikawa’s pretty good, though.”

Tsukishima had no idea what to say to that. He was going to leave when Kuroo spoke again.

“Want to see me dance?” He asked, licking his lips. His eyes were wide, full of a fire and drive that Tsukishima didn’t really understand still.

“Not really.”

“Too bad.” Kuroo pushed him down onto the floor. “Sit here, let me get the music. Tell me what you think. It’s kind of like a draft for the dance we’re hoping to debut with.”

Tsukishima squirmed uncomfortably as Kuroo headed to the other side of the room and grabbed the stereo. He clicked the ‘play’ button and assumed position, the music starting moments later.

It was rougher, less upbeat than most of the stuff Tsukishima listened to. He tried to identify Kuroo’s voice in the song, but it was so autotuned that he honestly couldn’t tell.

It wasn’t bad, though.

He looked at Kuroo—he was already sweating and panting, but every one of his movements were fluid. He grinned at Tsukishima when he caught his gaze, rolling his hips. Tsukishima rolled his eyes.

He was a fantastic dancer, though. He hadn’t been able to tell just by the ‘twirl and point’ move they practiced yesterday, but it was different from how even Yamaguchi moved. Every single jerk of his body had a purpose, every single movement of his foot was to the beat of the song.

Tsukishima didn’t want to admit it, but he was really, really good.

Kuroo stopped right when the music stopped—eyes locked on the floor, hand outstretched. It didn’t look stiff or awkward when he did it. It looked just right.

Kuroo hurried over to him after a few seconds of staying in position. “So? Pretty good, right?”

“Your lack of modesty is disgusting,” Tsukishima said, inching away from him. “… It was pretty good.”

And then, something amazing happened.

Tsukishima watched as Kuroo’s entire face lit up. It was such an honest smile that Tsukishima had to look away. He sat down beside him, pulling out a bottle of water from his bag and downing half of it in one swift motion.

“Thanks, Tsukki,” Kuroo replied as Tsukishima began to count the lines on the floor again.

“Don’t call me that.”

“It’s cute.” He could feel Kuroo shrug beside him, which was a sign they were _way_ too close. He pulled away, shifting closer to the wall. “It kind of suits you.”

Tsukishima almost hurt his neck snapping his head to look at him. “What?”

“I mean, it’s a really adorable nickname. And you’re kind of unexpectedly cute when you’re not pissed off.”

Tsukishima could feel his mouth hanging open like a fish—he snapped it shut, lips spreading into a disgruntled thin line. Kuroo snickered, standing back up after sliding his water back in his bag.

“Just like that,” Kuroo said, his voice practically bubbling with how smug he was. He was looking at Tsukishima weirdly, like there was something on his face. It left the hairs on the back of his neck standing up.

He thanked every god there was that Yamaguchi came bounding into the room then, sweating and shaking, eyes wide. “T-Tsukki!”

“Wh—What the hell happened to you?” Tsukishima frowned and stood up, tentatively touching Yamaguchi’s arm.

“Oh my god, Tsukki.” Yamaguchi’s eyes were as wide as saucers. “It was terrifying.”

“What?” Tsukishima repeated as Yamaguchi draped himself dramatically over Tsukishima’s front. He could hear Kuroo laughing in the background and he subtly gave him the middle finger with his free hand. He didn’t stop.

“He—he made me sing, while jogging. I think I’m going to die.”

And then Yamaguchi fell onto the floor, eyes shutting mid-air. Tsukishima kneeled down beside him, fingers shaking as he frantically checked for Yamaguchi’s pulse.

“Ya… Yamaguchi—Hey!”

* * *

 

“You could have made it easier to see you were actually alive. Don’t be stupid, I seriously thought you passed out.”

Yamaguchi laughed at the insult, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. Tsukishima and Kuroo were both about to give Yamaguchi CPR when he suddenly sat up and announced he was, in fact, alive.

They were in a taxi now on the way home. “You’re paying me back for this, too,” Tsukishima added.

Yamaguchi gave him a toothy grin. “I know.”

He practically shoved Yamaguchi out of the taxi when he got to his friend’s house—his glare didn’t go soft even as Yamaguchi whined and complained that his back still hurt from the exercise.

When he got home, he went straight for his room, not stopping to announce his presence to his parents. Checking to see that his brother wasn’t around, he closed his door and put a large plush in front of it to stop anyone from getting in. Just for good measure.

Pulling out his box from under his bed, he slipped off one of his socks. _This is pathetic,_ he told himself. But he shoved the sock in the box anyways. He didn’t have any other memento.

‘The first time I became an idol,’ he wrote.  
  
Reading it gave him a strange feeling that he pushed away immediately.

* * *

 

Kuroo was somehow even worse when he couldn’t talk, Tsukishima found out.

A few weeks later, he entered the practice room to find Kuroo with his head downcast and Ukai slamming his fist against his forehead.

“Ow!” Kuroo jumped, rubbing his forehead and pouting. Tsukishima quietly laid his bag at the front of the room and began stretching beside Yamaguchi. But his eyes never left them.

Ukai was saying something quietly to him—but harshly, his whole face contorted and his eyebrows furrowed. He dismissed Kuroo a few moments later with a harsh shove.

Kuroo caught his gaze and gave him a small grin and a big wave.

Tsukishima looked away, focusing on touching his toes instead.

And he wouldn’t admit it, but being able to just graze his fingers over the tip left a proud feeling in his chest.

Yamaguchi grabbed his hand and tugged him up when Ukai called them to stand. He shrugged his grip off and crossed his arms as Ukai spit out his gum into the trash.

“Subunits are a big part of the idol industry,” Ukai said. “While they’re not as common in Japan as they are in Korea, they’re a great way for companies to make a lot of money while not working every member.”

“Subunits require a lot more synchronization than a large group. Since there’s less people on stage, your every mistake will be documented.”

“Today, we’re going to be studying a full dance currently still in the works for a real group. It’s more vigorous than the other full dance we’ve learned so far. Subunit dances are generally more intricate to make up for the lack of people on stage. There’s a few members from the group already here—Kuroo, Oikawa, Bokuto, you guys can go with your original training partners. As for everyone else…”

Tsukishima sighed, brushing his fingers through his hair as Kuroo slid towards him. His smile was wider than before, but the loud ‘hello’ that he expected never came.

“Uh,” Tsukishima frowned, taking a step back. “What is wrong with you? Aside from everything about your personality.”

Kuroo blinked, still smiling.

Okay, it was _definitely_ forced.

“You’re so weird,” Tsukishima said. “Can you talk? Are you banned from talking? Thank god.”

Kuroo shook his head and pointed to his throat, then rasped out, “Ow.”

Tsukishima frowned, taking another step back cautiously. “Are you sick? Because I want another partner then.”

Kuroo shook his head again, quicker this time, and coughed. There was no distinct deepness to it that came with a cold. He tugged Tsukishima back by his sleeve and rolled his eyes with an expression that said he thought Tsukishima was _way_ too dramatic.

He led Tsukishima to sit on the ground, then stood and waited for the music over the speakers to loop back again. It was the same song Kuroo had danced for him a few weeks ago, but the mixing was a little different. There was more bass—it reminded Tsukishima of Western music.

And then Tsukishima came to the chilling realization that he was going to have to do the same dance that Kuroo showed him.

He watched him differently this time. When Kuroo showed him a few weeks ago, he looked at him as a whole, at the expressions he made and how his feet dragged across the floor to the music. This time, he studied every movement of his body, tried to memorize every time he shifted his leg or arm even the slightest bit.

It was dizzying, to say the least.

He barely absorbed any information by the end of it, too busy thinking about the last step Kuroo took to even begin thinking about the next one. And by the time he thought he had the third movement down in his head, Kuroo was finished.

Kuroo brushed his fingers through his hair—it still looked stupid, Tsukishima thought—and gestured for Tsukishima to stand up.

“How do you expect me to do that when you didn’t even break it down?” Tsukishima hissed, to which Kuroo shrugged. He looked over at Yamaguchi who, thankfully, was practically tripping over himself with every movement. At least he wasn’t the only one. His shoulders relaxed a bit and he turned back to Kuroo.

He stood awkwardly, trying to manually rewind his memories to remember Kuroo’s first move, when he felt Kuroo’s hand wrap around his waist.

Tsukishima sucked in a deep breath, allowing Kuroo to guide his position. Even the first time they’d practiced, and Kuroo had done the same thing, he’d at least been talking. It was different when he was quiet. It was weird. It felt less like mindless banter and more serious.

He had to remind himself that for Kuroo, it was serious. He never asked why exactly Kuroo was taking a class that he’d already done again, but he could make the logical assumption that it had to do with furthering his chance of debuting.

When Kuroo was satisfied, he pulled away, leaving Tsukishima breathless. He moved in front of him, mimicking his position, then began dancing.

In slow motion.

It looked absolutely ridiculous, but Tsukishima followed easily enough. Kuroo laughed or smirked whenever Tsukishima messed up—and while it was infuriating, it helped him recognize what mistakes he made. Kuroo’s smiles were ever-gentle and his patience was seemingly never-ending, repeating the same move or step over and over for Tsukishima.

Tsukishima definitely did _not_ enjoy it though.

After the third time they ran through it, Kuroo sped up his movements to match the actual beat of the song. It was a lot harder, and much faster, and Tsukishima was beginning to realize just how physically taxing this class was going to be on him. His muscles still ached from yesterday’s practice, and his movements that were formerly ‘okay’ turned into ‘awful’ when he tried to match Kuroo’s speed.

He was pretty sure he tripped over _nothing_ when he landed on his ass a few moments later.

“Fuck,” he said as his head knocked against the wall. That was going to bruise for sure. Kuroo stopped dancing and kneeled down beside him, not touching him but giving him a glance that made Tsukishima feel like he was being nagged at. “I’m fine,” he grumbled, pushing himself back onto his feet.

His head was spinning and his whole body felt like it was pounding—the music certainly didn’t help—but he pushed Kuroo away when he tried to turn him to see his head. “I said I’m fine.”

Kuroo frowned, but he clearly couldn’t protest.

He looked nothing but worried as Ukai called out, “Alright. Regular class members, come up to the front now. It’s fine if you don’t know the whole dance, I don’t expect you to. Just do what you know.”

Tsukishima glanced back at Kuroo, who was twiddling his fingers and staring intently at where he was sure the bruise on the back of his head was. “I’m fine, okay?”

 _He was definitely not fine_ , he thought, as he took a spot beside Yamaguchi at the front of the room.  

Kuroo not-so-subtly imitated the first motion of the dance for him. A tall boy with even worse hair than Kuroo’s who Tsukishima didn’t recognize threw his head back and laughed, slapping Kuroo’s hand down. Kuroo frowned at whatever he said and nudged his arm, until they were practically elbow-wrestling.

It made Tsukishima’s head hurt even more.

He took a deep breath as Ukai announced the music was going to start, falling into position. The first part was the easiest. He made it through up until the chorus rather easily, aside from a few missteps. He wanted to look at Yamaguchi, see if he was in beat as well, but he didn’t want to risk messing up.

Or turning his head, because he was pretty sure he was bleeding. It felt like it, at least.

But the chorus _hurt_. Every single word in the song made him feel sick. It hammered through his head and his fingers curled when they weren’t supposed to, his feet moved in the wrong direction, his lips opened and—

“Tsukki!” Yamaguchi gasped, hitting Tsukishima as he doubled over, throwing up all over the floor.

His eyes seared with tears and he coughed, falling onto his knees. His throat burned and he looked up and felt even sicker almost instantly.

A dozen pairs of eyes were all on him. Oikawa turned away, hand covering his mouth, undoubtedly disgusted. A small, cute girl looked away. Kuroo just looked disappointed, and if he could speak, Tsukishima would bet that he’d just say ‘I told you so.’

_Don’t fucking cry._

Yamaguchi rushed to get something to clean up the mess he made and Ukai helped him onto his feet. He couldn’t feel his legs. Was he dying? Was he seriously going to die because he hit his head while dancing in a class that he didn’t even want to join in the first place?

His chest heaved and he was pushed into Kuroo’s grasp. The older boy held onto his arm and then steadied his other one around Tsukishima’s shoulders. Tsukishima couldn’t bring himself to look at him.

The rest of the class parted like the sea for them and Kuroo lead him to the bathroom. It was eerily quiet, but it felt nice compared to the pounding sensation from the music. He avoided looking in the mirror and instead leaned against the wall, pressing his palm against his forehead.

This was _exactly_ why he didn’t want to do this.

He still wasn’t sure what the gravity of the situation was. He wasn’t a trainee like Kuroo or Oikawa. He still had no intention of becoming an idol. But he’d practiced too hard, put way too many hours into this shitty class to just drop out or fail. And he wasn’t about to be known as the kid who dropped out halfway.

It was even worse that the other people in this had a purpose. They were better than him in every respect and it made him dizzy and sick.

Digging into his pocket, he pulled out a small packet of painkillers and shoved two into his mouth. It hurt even more to swallow it, but it couldn’t be worse than what he just experienced.

He could feel more tears welling in his eyes when Kuroo stepped closer to him. “Turn around,” he rasped. His voice was hoarse. Tsukishima wondered what he did to hurt his throat in the first place.

He didn’t have any energy to fight back, though, so he just turned around for him, allowing Kuroo to press a warm, wet towel against whatever wound was there. He moaned quietly, pressing his head back.

Kuroo laughed, holding the towel there for what felt like a good few minutes.

“You’d be a good idol, Tsukki,” Kuroo said, sounding a bit amused and a lot worried.

“Shut up. You’re going to hurt your throat more.”

What kind of idol couldn’t sing a one line alone without his voice breaking? What kind of idol couldn’t dance in front of a crowd? The entire notion was ridiculous.

Kuroo pulled the towel away when it began to get cold. “I’m serious,” he said. “You need a lot of practice, but you’ve improved a lot since your first week.”

Tsukishima rubbed the back of his head, trying to feel where the wound was. Kuroo’s eyes narrowed and he pulled Tsukishima’s arm back before he could find it.

“You? Being serious?” Tsukishima snorted. “Okay.”

Kuroo leaned against the wall, looking hurt. “You think I can’t be serious?” The laughter in his voice made him feel a bit better about insulting him.

“It’s hard to take someone with your hair seriously.”

Kuroo grinned then went to wring out the towel over the sink. “I lost my voice from singing too much.” He dumped the towel into a chute beside the sink after, turning back to Tsukishima.

He chewed on his lip, grabbing onto the hem of his shorts so he wouldn’t try and touch his wound. “Why?”

Kuroo sighed, rubbing his throat. “We were recording for the song again, re-distributing the lines since it was almost all Oikawa. And I got yelled at for not sounding good enough, so I had to practice.”

“So don’t make it worse by talking to me!” he snapped, feeling guilty just hearing Kuroo speak at all. Kuroo had reminded him over a dozen times that this was serious. If it was so serious, he shouldn’t waste his energy by talking to _Tsukishima_ , of all people.

“It—” Kuroo scratched the back of his head. “It kind of feels better to talk to you. Better than to Bokuto or something.”

Tsukishima had no idea who Bokuto was still, but the idea that it was better to talk to him than _anyone_ made his face heat up. He swallowed. “Don’t get used to it.”

Kuroo grinned cheekily as if to say ‘no way.’

Standing up properly, Tsukishima raked his fingers through his hair again, careful not to pass over the wound, lest Kuroo nag him again. “I’m fine now. For real, let’s just go back.”

Watching him like a hawk, Kuroo nodded, (unnecessarily) helping Tsukishima to steady himself. The short walk back to the practice room was quiet, with Kuroo slowing down to match his pace.

It was dead silent when they entered the room. Tsukishima wanted to turn back, but he stood his ground, raising his head. He wasn’t going to make even worse of a fool of himself.

Ukai came up to him and clapped his shoulder. “I won’t make you practice any more for the next few days. But you’re going to need to learn this dance since we’re doing it at the presentation at the end of the year.”

Tsukishima’s heart dropped to his stomach and he felt sick again as Ukai turned to Kuroo. “Tsukishima will join you this weekend for your regular practice. Since you’ll be doing this dance anyways, it shouldn’t be an inconvenience. I’ll pass word onto your manager that you put in extra work.”

Kuroo nodded. His arm was still slung around Tsukishima’s shoulder and he pushed it off quietly as Ukai turned away.

Yamaguchi was by his side a few moments later, the frown on his face so big that Tsukishima was scared it was going to get stuck there. “Tsukki? Are you okay? What happened?”

“I’m fine,” he replied gruffly, pulling away from Kuroo to go and grab his bag. “I hurt my head while dancing and it made me sick. Stop—stop clinging to me,” he spoke sharply as Yamaguchi tried to grab onto his arm.

“But Tsukki, I’m worried!” Yamaguchi shouted.

“Keep your voice down!”

He didn’t even try to lower his voice. “You never take care of yourself properly, Tsukki.”

Tsukishima’s face twisted into a half-frown, half-scowl, and he turned away to leave the room. Yamaguchi bounded after him, holding tightly onto his sleeve.

“Did Kuroo-san give you medicine?”

“I had some with me. He helped me get rid of the headache.” Although, being with Yamaguchi was slowly bringing it back.

“Oikawa-san told me that he’s really nice to you.” Tsukishima gaped at him. Because Kuroo constantly teasing him was definitely him being ‘nice’. _Sure._ “It’s kind of sweet.”

“What the hell are you saying? Shut up, I’m getting another headache.” He rubbed his temple as they exited the building. He should have brought a jacket.

Yamaguchi’s frown turned into an innocent smile. “Nothing, Tsukki.”

Bristling, he upped his walking pace. “It better be nothing.”

* * *

 

Tsukishima was confined to a total of three full days of rest. No school, no practice, no getting out of bed except for the necessities. He didn’t have a concussion, but the dent in his head was ‘no joke’ according to his doctor.

Of course, staying in bed for three days was ridiculous and unfathomable. He stayed on his floor mostly instead, knees propped up to his chest. His setup was pretty nice, if he did say so himself. His phone was charging right beside him and his laptop was just light enough that he could put it on his lap if he wanted to.

He found himself looking into his box instead. The last time he opened it was over two months ago, when he put his sock inside.

Looking back, that was kind of really gross.

The items are overflowing now. Underneath the sock is the Perfume album that Yamaguchi got him at the beginning of the year—he still had no idea what Kuroo had against them, they were great—and then underneath was an assorted array of items that he’d collected since he was a kid.

Almost all of his free time in the past few weeks had been practice or school. He hadn’t actually sat down and listened to any music, or watched any videos, for what felt like forever.

He pulled out his phone from the charger and put on one of his favourite songs while he looked through the rest of the box.

Tsukishima had read countless accounts of what it was like to be a trainee. He knew it was hard. Any educated person could guess that. But he hadn’t realized how hard, exactly.

Every single movement, every single word, every single breath that these people took was documented and criticized. Tsukishima had done it himself and he hadn’t even noticed.

Not that Tsukishima was actually a trainee. He was just some high school kid who was taking classes at a talent agency for—what? He had no idea. For fun? It wasn’t exactly fun. He was in his room, missing school and undoubtedly gaining a brand new pile of work to catch up on. That wasn’t fun.

He couldn’t drop out. He couldn’t quit the class and allow himself to be known—whether to the others or himself—as the kid who couldn’t do it.

At the same time though, he wasn’t sure how he would be able to continue.

His lungs seized up at the idea that he was seriously injuring himself over nothing. But it wasn’t nothing.  He knew himself better than anyone. He wouldn’t be doing this if not for a good reason.

He sat there on the floor of his room, staring at his album, wondering _why the fuck_ was he putting himself through this?

But no matter how long he sat there for, no matter how many times the song looped, he couldn’t think of a reason why.

* * *

 

When he went to meet Kuroo on Saturday, he didn’t even have a chance to speak before he was being pulled into the room and told to sat down.

“No, I’m not—stop touching me!” he snapped as Kuroo shoved him onto the floor.

“Do you know how painful it was not to be able to talk to the other day?” Kuroo’s expression twisted into a worried frown. “You’re only like, sixteen. You need to take better care of yourself or you’re going to end up like Oikawa.”

“What happened to Oikawa-san?”

“It’s not important.” Kuroo waved his hand to dismiss any curious thoughts from Tsukishima’s head. “The point is that—I know you don’t want to be an idol. But you’re still a person, so treat yourself like one.”

Tsukishima’s eyes widened and he looked away, struggling to breathe for a moment. He felt like he was on fire while Kuroo was staring at him. His fingers curled over the bottom of his shirt, anxiety pooling in his throat.

“I know that,” he replied, with much less force than he wanted.

“Then act like it,” Kuroo said. His voice was deadly serious. And even when they were in the bathroom four days ago, he hadn’t sounded like that.

And then Kuroo stood back up, that usual cat-like smile on his face again. “I’m not going to make you dance too much today. Just watch for now. Your head isn’t still hurting, right?”

Tsukishima shook his head, cautiously looking back at Kuroo once he heard him turn to play the music.

By now, he knew most of the moves to the dance. It was putting them together that was the difficult part for him. For Kuroo, though, it seemed to be seamless. Tsukishima wasn’t even sure why Kuroo had to practice, because, well—

He was amazing.

Tsukishima tucked his knees to his chest and rested his head on his arms as Kuroo repeated the dance twice without a break. After the second time, he went and stopped the music, shoulder slumping.

“Bokuto says I’m too slow in the chorus. Apparently I’m lagging behind.” He sat down beside Tsukishima as he took a long sip from his canteen.

“I didn’t really notice,” Tsukishima admitted.

“Well, you’re not a professional.” Kuroo dropped his canteen back on the ground, but he didn’t get up. “Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Tsukishima repeated, much less enthusiastic about the idea than Kuroo was. The other boy laughed. He had a nice voice, all things considered. He could see why he wasn’t the best singer, though. He was always on the verge of either shouting or whispering. There was always some kind of dramatic flair to his speech. His laughter was no different.

“I still think it’s cute, though,” Kuroo hummed. “Tsukki.”

“I told you not to call me that!” He elbowed Kuroo in the side, not turning to look at him. “It doesn’t even sound better than ‘Tsukishima’.”

“It’s cute because it’s you.” Tsukishima could feel Kuroo staring at him and he turned his head away more, chewing on his lip, trying to shake that gaze without actually touching or looking at him. _What the hell was that supposed to mean?_ “But it’s also definitely cuter than Tsukishima.”

“I am not cute.”

Kuroo inched closer. “You are,” he said, a bit breathlessly.

Slowly, Tsukishima turned his head to look at him. Kuroo was smiling a smile that Tsukishima had never seen on his face. It was softer, less cat-like and more like a normal person’s.

It almost made him uncomfortable, how completely and utterly _calm_ Kuroo looked.

“Aren’t you supposed to be practicing?” Tsukishima asked, trying to keep his gaze steady with Kuroo’s. The other boy was staring at him so intensely that he could almost _feel_ his eyes watching his every move.

Every gulp, every blink, every sway of his body. He recalled his thoughts while sitting on his floor while sick—the idea of someone watching his every move. Was this what it felt like?

Kuroo shrugged. “Yeah, but I kind of want to do something else.” He leaned forward and Tsukishima leaned back for every millimeter that Kuroo moved.

“Wh—What?”

He saw Kuroo shut his eyes and then lean in and then their lips were touching and then Tsukishima felt like he was dying—

—And then he was flying. Kuroo’s lips were chapped and rough but he pressed on anyways, tilting his head so their noses wouldn’t knock into each other. Tsukishima reached out and catched the front of Kuroo’s shirt, trying to anchor himself to reality. Every shift of Kuroo’s lips, every prod of his mouth against Tsukishima’s left him breathless.

Tsukishima closed his eyes when Kuroo wrapped his fingers around Tsukishima’s waist. The only noise in the room was their lips touching, lightly at first, then harder with every breath that passed. Kuroo prodded his mouth open with his tongue and they both _gasped_ , his grip on Kuroo’s shirt tightening.

“What—” he tried to say in between a kiss, but Kuroo didn’t give him a chance to finish before his mouth was on him again. One of his hands was pressing against Tsukishima’s lower back, fingers slipping under his shirt to caress his lower back.

Kuroo swiped his tongue over Tsukishima’s lower lip before pulling back, eyes wide like an owl.

“I-I like you,” Kuroo said, his cheeks flushed a dark pink. His thumb was still pressing at Tsukishima’s back. “I don’t know why, really, you’re kind of an asshole, and you’re stupidly tall, but I like you.”

“That’s… are you… are you insulting me, or…” Tsukishima stammered, his head still unwinding from Kuroo kissing him. _Kuroo_ , who had awful hair and was a great dancer and who nagged like a mom, who just took his first kiss.

Kuroo pulled his hand back and Tsukishima found himself missing the feeling almost immediately. His skin tingled every single spot where Kuroo touched him. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I like you.”

Tsukishima licked his lips, counting every single beat of his heart in between when Kuroo and he spoke.

He found his reason for continuing.

“I…” Tsukishima sighed. “… I like you too.”

Kuroo pulled him into another hug and it felt warm and safe and _right_.

* * *

 

Finishing practice was hard when Kuroo couldn’t stop smiling.

“Aren’t you supposed to look serious?” Tsukishima crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. His cheeks were still red. “Stop grinning like an idiot.”

“You like me,” Kuroo practically sang. “And now we’re dating.”

“Shut up!” Tsukishima frowned, wanting to sink into a hole seeing Kuroo so _happy_. “Someone is going to walk by and hear you.”

“It was a really, really bad idea for them to put us together alone.” Kuroo pulled him from the wall, arms secured around his waist within moments.

Tsukishima snorted. “No shit.”

Kuroo buried his face against Tsukishima’s neck, pressing a kiss to the skin there. He squirmed a bit but didn’t pull back.

It felt… nice. Strange, and nice.

“I want to learn everything about you,” Kuroo spoke quietly. “Like… what’s your favourite colour?”

“Black.” He fit his head awkwardly beside Kuroo’s.

“Of course it would be black!” The older boy pulled back, eyes sparkling. And before Tsukishima could protest, he pressed a kiss to his nose. “Mine is red.”

Red, like fire. _It suits him_ , Tsukishima thought.

Kuroo cupped his face in his hands. Tsukishima’s face was steadily filling back with Kuroo’s favourite colour.

“We’re going to debut at the end of this semester. At the concert.” Tsukishima couldn’t help the shock that spread over his face—because while he knew that Kuroo was supposed to debut soon, he didn’t know it was that soon. The idea of Kuroo’s every movement being critized left an upset feeling in his stomach. He’d never really actually _thought_ about Kuroo being an idol. It seemed so far off, like a ‘what if.’ “Our performance is last. You’ll stay to watch, right?”

He felt something weird, then—something like protectiveness. Like he wanted to care for Kuroo.

Tsukishima nodded dumbly, unable to speak as Kuroo’s grin grew wider.

It was so—so _cute_ , so disgustingly _adorable_ and handsome that Tsukishima couldn’t help but smile back, just a bit.

“I wasn’t excited before, but I am now.” He grabbed Tsukishima’s hands and kissed them. He could only make an embarrassing noise in return.

“Now, let us practice before scary instructor-guy comes to check on us and realizes that we haven’t done shit.”

Tsukishima laughed. “Okay.”

This time, when Kuroo put his hands on his waist and guided his movements, he didn’t mind.

And he found, when he actually was dancing properly and not making a fool himself…

He actually kind of enjoyed it.

(The proud smile that Kuroo gave him later that year when they performed again in front of the class might have helped him enjoy it too. Just a little.)

**Author's Note:**

> http://mermaidfiesta.tumblr.com/
> 
> this is the longest thing ive written in YEARS and honestly i am REALLY anxious about posting this and i may take it down but ahhhh i really, really wanted to write something good for today's prompt because i love kurotsukki and i just got this idea and ... IDK... i hope you enjoyed it!! any comments/kudos/etc are appreciated 
> 
> thank you SO much for making it this far !!!!!!!!


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